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Hænir had noted Dwalin’s distrust of the travellers, and while he managed to hide his feelings somewhat more effectively than the younger Dwarf, he shared them. He still had not forgiven them the little ‘prank’ they had pulled when they arrived – no matter who the marksman, an Elf of the greenwood or not, it was no laughing matter to Hænir to have someone shoot an arrow at him or one of his companions! As a consequence, he made sure that when he sat down by the fire, he did so with his face to the travellers, and with Nerin and Dwalin on either side of him.
The travellers had seemed to settle right into the group and make themselves at home, and Bali had certainly taken to them. Hænir had spent several weeks now in the close company of Bali and had come to the conclusion that while he was a Dwarf of mettle and spirit, he was still quite young in spirit: brash, confident and quick to decide for others. Hænir was used to taking orders, but from his King, to whom he had sworn eternal obedience and loyalty. Bali, as true as he undeniably was, had yet – Hænir felt – to earn the right to assume that he was the unquestioned leader of the group. And yet, no sooner had they finished their evening meal, then Bali was ordering – ordering – himself and Nerin to collect more wood. Hænir paused for a moment, considering whether the time was ripe to openly question the imperious manner that had come to rankle him, but decided that it had not. He did allow himself, however, one muttered phrase as he stomped past Bali: “I did not bring my axe on this journey to cut wood!”
Nerin and he had little trouble finding dry wood aplenty in the forest and they each soon had an armful of fuel for their fire. As they were about to return to the clearing, they saw off to their side, well out of the light of the fire, Dwalin and the Ranger Arasiniel, apparently in conversation. Hænir beckoned Nerin to stop. The younger Dwarf followed Hænir’s gaze and then looked at him in alarm. “What’s the matter?” he hissed quietly. “Is that Ranger threatening Dwalin?”
Hænir shook his head slowly, “I do not know,” he said, “but there is something amiss. Dwalin has been uncomfortable all night – I do not think that he cares for these travellers overmuch.” He saw the Ranger move closer to Dwalin, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from crying out a warning. He still felt the guilt of having abandoned Dwalin and Durin to the orcs, and as a result had become more than a little protective of them since their miraculous escape. He saw Dwalin and Arasiniel move back toward the fire and he could not help but sigh somewhat with relief. He turned to Nerin once more, “Come my friend, let us get this wood back to Bali so he can build up the fire.”
“What was going on?”
“‘Twas nothing, my lad. Dwalin was, I think, seeking some time alone and the Ranger merely surprised him in the dark.” He was not sure that Nerin believed this. He was not sure that he did, either.
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